Star Trek: Mission Delta
by Tommy Charles
Summary: With their new found technological superiority the Federation sets out to officially explore the Delta Quadrant. But will their first official mission into the Quadrant prove their last?
1. Chapter 1

_....The events in this ongoing story occur seven years after the Star Trek Voyager novel _Homecoming.

_Disclaimer: All Star Trek characters are property of Paramount, I am not affiliated with them in any way.....yet_

**CHAPTER 1**

Kata'Clan swept his view across the rocky plateau. White streaks of lightning arced in jagged lines across an obsidian sky as fat drops of rain pelted his dull blue skin. He sniffed the air, his grip tightening on the Klingon bat'leth that he'd pulled from his fallen comrade's chest.

He looked down at Bar'al and watched as the dead Klingon's armor-laden chest resettled into the mud, the limp body flopping like a child's doll. "Victory is life," the Jem'Hadar growled in way of farewell to the fallen warrior. Kata'Clan stepped over the body and headed further into the misty night.

His night vision provided him with a clear path to the mountain a half kilometer to the west. He proceeded, scanning left and right constantly. The bat'leth was a solid weight against his chest, its blades facing outward. He knew that the Hirogen would prefer to take their prey by hand if possible.

The mountain he sought loomed close, and then, all at once, Kata'Clan heard a twig snap behind him. In the same moment he felt his body twisting instinctively, the blade of the bat'leth meeting the Hirogen's metal armor with a resounding clang. For a moment the night was ablaze with sparks, and with them he saw the Hirogen's rough, orange skin wrinkling into a smile. Kata'Clan was first to act; he swung the blade at the Hirogen's temple in a skillful arc, but the Hirogen was faster. It swung down and away, and the Jem'Hadar felt a thick metallic boot in his gut, followed shortly by the alien's blade slashing across his chest. His blood mixed with the rain, precious ketricil white wasting away in the downpour.

A part of him registered the wound; a bigger, more primal part countered the Hirogen as it slashed again with the dagger. Kata'Clan kicked savagely into the alien's side and the blade went wide. The Jem'Hadar's hand moved for his own blade as he threw the bat'leth away, and in the next moment he felt the Hirogen's thick blood spraying on his own rough, reptilian face. The Hirogen fell back, its hand groping at the slash along its thick orange neck. As the large creature hit the ground its hand found the plasma weapon in the mag-lock on its leg, pulled it out, and dropped it again as Kata'Clan's blade found his eye.

Lightning flooded the sky, much closer this time. In the momentary daylight Kata'Clan's eyes scanned the craggy vista. To the left, five Hirogen walked in formation toward Bar'al, the fallen member of the Klingon/Starfleet joint task force. The Hirogen's large plasma rifles swung back and forth in the air, tasting it, scanning it. Kata'Clan knelt down beside the fallen Hirogen and pulled its plasma weapon from the mag-lock plate. The Jem'Hadar ran into the night, toward the mountain. Toward the caves where his superior officer hid, awaiting rescue. The Klingon Special Ops officer dead in the mud was cut into pieces as the Hirogen claimed their trophy in the night.

**XXX**

The USS Prometheus, flagship of Star Fleet, orbited a small Class M planet on the edge of what had once been Borg space. Captain Geordi La Forge scanned the read-out on the tactical display that sat nestled between his chair and that of his acting first officer, tactical expert on the Borg, Captain Elizabeth Shelby. His light blue cybernetic eyes didn't miss the tension that tightened her body, nor that of his own.

"Engineering, report." The tight fear in his own voice surprised him, embarrassed him. It had been many years since he'd been face to face with the Borg, and many years since Star Fleet had even heard from them. The actions of Admiral Janeway on the fateful day of her return from the Delta Quadrant had been profound. Some of Star Fleet's brightest speculated that the Borg collective might have even been destroyed, but as Star Fleets official probe into that quadrant arrived two days ago, the Prometheus's long-range scanners told them otherwise. The Borg were not only here, judging by the number of transwarp trails in the area, they were _thriving_. La Forge felt like a man lost at sea, clinging to a plank of balsa wood, with sharks circling. He shook the image off. The Prometheus was far from a sunken dingy; she was the _créme de la créme_ of the fleet, her offensive and defensive prowess far surpassing that of the Enterprise E and even the legendary Defiant class starship.

"Transwarp drive is on standby, sir," Ford from engineering reported as required, and Captain La Forge noted the slight edge of fear in his voice as well. La Forge stood, taking a few steps toward the towering view screen, and turned to tactical.

"Mr. T'val, deploy armor." The tactical officer swiftly complied and La Forge felt the replicated armor sliding into place along the outer hull. The Prometheus was one of the few vessels to be fitted with the futuristic armor. The Galaxy class had proven too large, the Defiant, too small. Very few really understood the exact workings of the armor. It was a matter of luck that it had yielded itself perfectly to the experimental Prometheus as well as the older Intrepid class. La Forge turned back to the view screen, swearing quietly to himself.

"Sir?" T'val from tactical called. La Forge turned, shaking his head. Shelby shared his concern, she stared straight ahead, toward the bleak planet below. Brilliant flashes of lighting whipped along the surface. Dark masses of clouds engulfed the surface obscuring the rocky crust below.

"Activate the cloak, Lieutenant." The Vulcan's head turned less than a quarter of an inch to the left, indicating great confusion, or perhaps, more appropriately for a Vulcan, the reaction to an illogical request. With the Prometheus cloaked, any survivors on the surface who had managed to salvage scanning equipment from the wreckage of the Dominion vessel would not be able to detect them. Regardless, T'val did as he was told.

"Cloak activated, Captain," the Vulcan intoned from tactical. La Forge nodded toward the view screen, and returned to his seat. He noted with concern the tension he saw in his bridge crew. All except for T'val. The Captain assumed that the feeling was there, somewhere, if he ever cared to dig deep enough to find it. Right now, however, he had bigger issues than an uptight tactical officer to deal with.

"Scan for life signs." The words stuck in his throat, now that the time had come to say them. Zero hour.

Admiral Picard was alive, or he wasn't. It was time to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

Kata'Clan reached the caves of the shale mountain and fell into its tight opening. Blood ran from his mouth, and plasma incinerated the damp air behind him. Admiral Jean Luc Picard turned from the ad hoc transporter pad at his side at a speed that belied his age.

"Kata'Clan!" The frail human was at his side in a moment, his soft pink hands feeling along the ridges of the Jem'Hadar's head, feeling for a pulse. He could feel the human's eyes boring into the gaping hole in his back. Plasma rifle damage that no amount of White could silence in time.

"Picard... go now." With that, Kata'Clan was dead.

Picard was suddenly very aware that the firing had stopped. Hirogen. They were outside the cave, and the Admiral had no delusion as to what they would do if they caught him here. He placed a parting hand on the fallen Jem'Hadar, a brave man, and a good Star Fleet officer. Then, very slowly, he backed into the cave.

His feet met the flat plastic of the transporter pad, very out of place in this cave, and he spoke to the computer, not knowing whether he should expect a reply. As two eight-foot Hirogen entered the cave, their long curved blades at the ready, stepping over the body of Commander Kata'Clan, Picard disappeared in a shower of blue light.

**XXX**

"Captain, I'm detecting a subspace signature," T'val called out, his face a solid wall of utter detachment. Nevertheless, the import of what he was saying was not lost on La Forge. "A Federation transporter signal." La Forge was in action at once.

"All right, people, this is it." He was behind T'val at tactical in an instant, his hand clapping down the stoic Vulcan. "I want that signal traced, and I want to know where the Admiral is, now!"

"Captain!" La Forge swung back to T'val. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The Vulcan's left eye brow was cocked approximately a half centemeter higher than the right, his fingers pushing firmly into the console. T'val turned towards to the Captain. "Two vessels have entered the system. I have identified them as Hirogen warships."

"Hirogen? Out here?" La Forge restrained himself from checking the Voyager Database himself; instead he made his way back to his command chair.

"Affirmative, Captain. Two Hirogen warships, bearing three-two-one, mark three. They are on an intercept course, presumably toward the planet."

La Forge let out a long sigh, weighing his options. "Have they seen us?"

"I do not believe so, sir. However, there is a chance that they have detected the transport presumably made by Admiral Picard." La Forge scoffed, shook his head and stood again.

"No, not from that range." He turned towards his communications officer, Lieutenant Tony Reed. "Lieutenent, are they making any communications that you can detect?" The officer did not need to check his readings again; he had been diligently monitoring the situation.

"Negative, sir. No communication whatsoever. They're running silent."

"Here I was expecting to face the Borg after all these years," Captain Shelby spoke up from the commander's chair. La Forge regarded her with a mixture of repulsion and amusement.

"One at a time, Elizabeth," La Forge said. Captain Shelby smiled. La Forge nodded toward Lieutinent Reed. "Let's see them."

Reed made a few deft movements across the holographic control interface and the ships came in view. They were huge, easily dwarfing the Prometheus. Long and cylindrical, they looked more like the plasma rifles that the Hirogen sported than space-faring vessels. The entire bridge crew watched in silence as the vessels passed by.  
"La Forge to Transporter Room One, I need a lock on Admiral Picard, and I need it now."

"Impossible, Captain, through this much interference. I have a lock on Commander Kata'Clan's combadge, but not Admiral Picards. I can tell that the Admiral is not in the immediate area, but that's all. " The crisp Bolian transporter officer's voice was laced with regret. Captain La Forge considered a moment.  
"Allright then, Ensign Torbun, beam Commander Kata'Clan directly to the situation room." La Forge walked to the ready room without looking back at his bridge crew. He tapped his com badge once. "Senior officers to the situation room now."  
The smoldering body of his first officer met him on the other side, his dark crimson blood soaking into the carpet.

**XXX**

Jean Luc Picard materialized on the creaking deck of a Dreadnought class Dominion warship, it's smoldering bridge lit dimly in emergency lighting. A dead Vorta hung limply across the only chair, his command visor splayed over his face at an odd angle. The Captain stepped around the command chair, counting the dead Jem'Hadar on deck. Eleven, the entire bridge crew. When he'd been on board this vessel only a few hours before to join Commander Kata'Clan in greeting his former superior, the mission had seemed simple.

The Borg had been detected along sector 139, thirteen sectors away from the Federation's first Delta Quadrant outpost, Deep Space 12. Star Fleet ordered a probe deeper into the quadrant, to the last known border of Borg space. The vessels that had attacked the Dominion's contribution to the effort may not have been Borg however, and now Admiral Picard was faced with the task of eluding a force who could cripple the Dominion's most powerful warship in less time then it had taken the massive ship to enter orbit around this desolate planet.  
A bulkhead dematerialized in front of Picard, dissolving into a wall of golden liquid. Picard let out a sigh of relief. "Ambassador Odo." The founder materialized into solid form and gave a gruff harrumph in the Captains direction, moving quickly past the Captain towards the command chair.

"Admiral Picard." Odo said in his gruff voice. There was no time for pleasantries. The Founder began imputing commands into the dimly lite command console, Picard moved to his side. Odo looked up,and then down again, as if he'd forgotten the Admiral was there. "Do you know what hit us?" he asked over his shoulder, slamming his fist into the command console, it had gone black.

"Hirogen." The Admiral said simply.

"Hirogen?" The changeling shook his head, the smooth lines of his face wrinkling in disgust. "According to our probes, the Hirogen don't have access to transwarp drive, and their borders are hundreds of light years away." He moved off to check the pulse of the Vorta commander.

Picard tugged at the bottom of his uniform, and followed the Founder to the command chair. he placed his hand gingerly on the Founder's back.

"The Hirogen are nomadic Predators. Either way Ambassador, this isn't your fight. Our primary objective must be to get to the safety of the Prometheus." Odo's hand slid off of the dead Vorta's neck, he turned to the Captain, snorted and turned away again.

"It's my fight as long as Nerys is in this sector, Admiral." Picard nodded, knowing that it would do no good arguing with the Changeling. This was, after all, the reason for the Dominion's assistance in assessing the new Borg threat. Captain Kira Nerys had dissipeared in this sector, after a battle with an unidentified race. A race that was certain to have not been the Hirogen, the subspace signature had been far too alien for that. The Defiant B had not been heard from since. Now, three months later Ambassador Odo had convinced the Federation counsel to pursue the matter, in order to ensure the security of Deep Space 12. Only a handful of Federation citizens new the true reason for the Dominion's generous offer of assistance.

"Ambassador, the Hirogen are here, now, on this planet. The Prometheus is in orbit by now, our greatest chances for finding Nerys are up there." The Admiral Softened his tone, taking a look around the junked battle ship. "Not here."

A Dominion portable scanner on the Vorta's belt beeped once, and then began to reverberate in a steady, deep tone. Picard stared at the scanner, weariness narrowing his eyes, creases in his forehead deepening. Odo threw a Vorta hand weapon his way.

"I'm getting too old for this, you know."

The changing grunted in his gruff way, his hands elongating and solidifying into two serrated blades. " If the Prometheus is up there, now would be a good time for them to." Odo paused a moment to remember the proper term. "Beam us up."


	3. Chapter 3

(NOTE: Thanks to emonick and Vegetto800 for your support and feedback.)

Geordi La Forge stood in shocked horror at the situation room door. Kata'Clan was clearly dead, his mid section burned and molten, forming a two foot hole in the Jem'Hadar's body. Slowly the Captain of the Prometheus headed backward, into the bridge. Tapping his com badge he found his voice. "Transporter room one, emergency site to site transport. Commander Kata'Clan to sickbay."

Shelby stood from her station in the center of the bridge, slapping her com badge. "Security team one to the bridge." T'val moved to the situation room, gently moving around Captain La Forge as commander Kata'Clan dematerialized before their eyes. La Forge turned to Captain Shelby. "I'll be in sickbay, you have the bridge." As the turbolift doors closed behind him, she found herself once again wishing to be up against the Borg. Anything other than the unknown.

La Forge stepped into sickbay to find that Doctor Gorthux had already pronounced his first officer dead. He stepped up to his friends ruined body, studying the burn marks, the gaping hole.

"Hirogen weopans." The Denobulan Doctor stated in a flat voice that said he expected La Forge to ask the question. "massive damage to the anterior armor plating. I'm sorry Captain. There was nothing to be done." La Forge nodded.

"I know Doctor. What I don't know is what happend down there. Is there anything you can tell me?" The denobulan shrugged and moved over to a holographic imaging tank in one corner of the room, telling the computer to display a foreinsic map of the Commander's body. La Forge moved over to stand with the Doctor, and the Denobulan proceeded.

"We can see, here, and here." He said, pointing to great slashes that resolved out of the burn marks on Kata'Clan's body. "These slash wounds were incurred before the plasma damage." The doctor turned away from the screen, looking at his Captain, considering how to phrase what he must say. "From the looks of this Captain, I have to tell you, it is apparent that he was hunted in a manner consistent with Hirogen tactics." La Forge looked down at his dead friend, looked up again.

"You mean he was chased to exhaustion, then gutted."

Doctor Gorthux turned to face La Forge. "There's something else sir." he turned back to the holographic display and pointed to an orange read out above the swirling photons that represented the Jem'Hadar. "The scan has revealed blood from Bekk Bar'al, and skin cells from Admiral Picard on Commander Katan'Clan's skin and uniform. I can tell you for certain that he was within a few feet of Admiral Picard within the last hour."  
La Forge felt a chill, he felt sick. His friend of more than 15 years was down there somewhere, among the most fearsome hunter the galaxy had ever produced. he had to admit to himself that Picard might already be dead.

"If you need me Doctor, I'll be in transporter room one."

**XXX**

The hunters made their way along the dark corridor, their plasma rifles honing in on the single life form on the alien bridge. The dark carpeted deck was littered with bodies, all nearly identical to the prey who had succomed in the cave. Very worthy prey. It was a shame that the crash had been so severe. Now there was only the weak human, hardly fit for the hunt. Four hunters closed in on the bridge as hundreds more continued to search the large vessel for salvageable technology, anything to teach them more about this new prey. The value of knowledge was not lost on the Hirogen. Toros, the Alpha, made a sharp move with his right hand, and the group fell to the deck. The door to the bridge was dead ahead now, debris and blood littered the entrance.

What could be seen of the door beyond the two foot line of sight that the jammed door provided seemed to be empty. Trox, a young hunter, inexperienced, called out to the Alpha in their sub vocal range of communication, asking why the pack had stopped. The Alpha turned and pointed the rifle at the youths chest, screaming for him to be silent. It was foolish to assume that the human did not have equipment that could hear their speech.  
Toros input his orders into the console of his rifle; they would charge in 30 seconds, trox in the rear. The youth hung his head in shame. Inexperience could prove fatal if Toros allowed them to make the mistake of underestimating the prey. The Hirogen who had dealt with the Janeway human years ago had learned that lessen painfully.

Five seconds to go, and the pack formed up. Toros in the lead, followed by Sor and flanked by Coros, the hunter who had made the first kill on the Klingon with the prey's own weapon. With such an honorable trophy, Coros would soon become a threat to Toros, but for now, he was needed in the group.  
Two seconds to go and the pack braced to charge, so caught in the frenzy of the hunt, having the prey pined down that they failed to notice that the view into the bridge had been obscured by a flowing golden form. The next moment Toros felt sharp metal running through his throat, below his face mask, the proto-plastic limb went on to impale Sor behind him. The limb was retracted in a flash and a sun hot poleron beam struck Toros in the chest. The last thing he saw was the human's face, from within the bridge. At least he'd been killed by a male.

Coros hesitated. It would have been a quick end to the hunt if he'd fired the plasma rifle into the bridge. Instead he stood there, marveling at the golden life form that their scanners had not detected. He met it's eyes, there was a sense of motion from the new prey, then his vision shifted wildly, and a moment later his head met the floor followed by his huge body.

As if caught in a catastrophic domino effect, Trox, the youngest of the hunters, stood and stared dumbly at the liquid prey. The demon who had just killed the Alpha, and Betas, with nothing more than his own freakish body. Trox ran down the corridor, several minutes later emerging on the surface, he vomited onto the hard dark surface of Valrush, the Sacred Hunting Grounds. They had all thought themselves blessed when the strange vessel had pulled into orbit, now, he wasn't so sure.

**XXX**

"What Happened back there Torbun?" Geordi La Forge was a laid back and well liked Commanding Officer, he always had been. But when his first officer gets beamed into his ready room instead of sick bay when he has a two foot hole in his chest, he feels that he has to put his foot down. With two Hirogen War Ships sharing an orbit with him, his old Captain and close friend lost on the surface, and the Klingon exchange officer probably dead as well, Captain La Forge was not in one of his better moods.

He figured he'd might as well add the fact that the Dominion's good will gesture had just been detected through the planet's hellish atmospheric interference in a smoldering heap on the surface to the list as well. The Captain hated the dominion, just as everyone did, but he liked Odo well enough. Goodness knows he's the only one keeping a leash on those things, he thought. It didn't help either that scanning the surface for anything smaller than a shuttle was proving impossible.

"Sir, there was no way to know what condition Commander Clan was in at the time of beam up. All I could get a lock on was his com badge, and even that was shaky." The Bolian was nearly whimpering, but La Forge did not allow that to temper his resolve.

"I understand that Mr. Torbun, but what I need you to understand is that it is your job to inform me when something is simply impossible. Transporting like that could have left Clan that way with or without Hirogen help." The bolian held Laforg's gaze until the Captain looked away. "Return to your post."

Captain La Forge left the transporter room in favor of heading to the turbolift instead of watching the Bolian shuffle back to his station. He remembered a simpler time, a time before the war.  
"Oh, Data, we really need to burn the midnight oil on this one." Talking to his dead android friend was not something that was particularly conductive to his solving this problem, so he spoke to the computer instead as the turbolift doors closed behind him.

"Shuttle bay one."

**XXX**

Captain Picard holstered the Poleron weapon and stepped around Odo, taking in the carnage. He scanned the corridor ahead of them and then knelt down, testing the weight of the Hirogen Plasma Rifle. Suprisingly light he hoisted the weapon easily. Staring down at the control console, he dared not attempt touch the device. This vessel was likely swarming with Hirogen by now, he reasoned.

"An amazing performance Ambassador." Picard said over his shoulder.

"It's amazing the things you learn in the Link." The changling called from within the bridge. "The main communications node is destroyed. This ship is useless." Picard stood and returned to the bridge, maneuvering the plasma rifile around the door frame. He noticed that indeed, all control surfaces were now black; no power anywhere. "I don't suppose you have anymore of those portable transporter pads on you?" The Captain shook his head, that had been a one time trick. An experimental field tricorder, capable of replicating several materials and tools had been the saving grace that had saved Picard from the Hirogen blade before. Unfortunatly it now rested on the cave floor, or had been scooped up by a curious hunter.

"Unfortunately not, Ambassador." He scanned the bridge, and as his eyes fell for the second time on the Vorta's command Visor a smile spread across his face. " But perhaps we don't need it."

Odo nodded his understanding. "I'll guard the door."


End file.
